


Time On Our Hands

by Amoryxya



Category: Hellboy (Movies)
Genre: BUT IT WILL HAPPEN BY GOLLY, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 03:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10958274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amoryxya/pseuds/Amoryxya
Summary: John Myers is just your average, every day FBI agent, turned BPRD agent who got sent to Antarctica by a coworker who thought he was trying to steal his girl. Except he's actually 75% not that at all and the existence of time travel is going to make HB a bit uncomfortable once the truth comes out.--------------In which John's actually one of the twins who traveled back in time to stop his Dad from going big-bad on the world.Because I can and the idea is actually really interesting when you watchHellboywith that idea in mind.





	Time On Our Hands

Warmth. Like the sun brushing against skin on a clear and cloudless day. Like the heat radiating into the air from the burners on a stove top. That is what Thaddeus remembered of Hellboy and Elizabeth Sherman. That's what he remembered most about his parents. His mother's hugs were like being wrapped in an electric blanket on a cold winter night. His father's shoulders, where he would often be found perching as a child, were strong and steady, filling a very young Thaddeus with a sense of protection. That warmth still remained, even now when Thaddeus was much older and everything was so _different_. For one thing, he didn't go by Thaddeus anymore. The name Thaddeus Tristan Sherman had never been spoken. It wasn't even a thought in his mother's mind... At least not _yet_.

\-----

_"Trev, what are you doing!? Trevor answer me!"_

_Thaddeus stood inside of the chalk circle they had drawn on the floor only hours before, a barrier of pure energy lining the edges of the white drawn lines. The energy didn't hurt him when he touched it, but it certainly did it's job well. He was sealed inside the circle, keeping him in place so that the ritual that the other man - identical to him in nearly every way - could continue as they had planned. The only problem was that he **wasn't in here with him**._

_The other man on the outside of the circle looked up from the tome in his arms. The smile he gave Thad was weak and even through the nearly translucent white haze of the barrier he could see unshed tears brimming hope filled eyes. "The ritual isn't strong enough to send us both back Thad," Trevor's voice was resigned, sad, but inherently determined when he spoke, "We wouldn't have been able to go back far enough to make any difference."_

_"That's what the charged crystal from the Vault was for!" Thad yelled back, hitting the barrier that kept him and the other man apart out of frustration, "You said you got it!"_

_Trevor looked down at the tome in his arms once more, almost like he was ashamed, "There wasn't enough. I knew there wouldn't be, but I didn't want to worry you." When Trevor looked up he gave Thad one of the giant toothy smiles that he was known for, the one that got the out of so much trouble every time their mom caught them doing something she had forbid them from doing when they were little. Before he could say anything however the ground beneath their feet rumbled and shook, dust and little bits of rubble falling from the decrepit ceiling. A glance at one of the cracked windows that gave view to the outside showed.... blackness. Then the black shifted and moved and slid, and what was previously blocking any view from the window was revealed to be a massive tentacle puling back towards the sky where it's owner presided amidst the rest of its siblings that made up the Ogdru Jahad._

_"We're out of time!" Trevor yelled, fear clouding his face for a moment before desperation took over and he began chanting in earnest, his words garbled and quiet as he buried his face into the tome once more. Streaks of static started to shoot across the barrier made by the circle and Thad took a step back. The moment Trevor finished the spell he looked up, a watery smile taking over his face once more as he looked at Thad, "It's all on you now-" "Trev, no!" "Save our family, brother."_

\-----

"John!"

"Hey! Myers!"

Abruptly he was pulled from his memory and back to the cafeteria where he was eating a simple chicken salad sandwich for lunch. Back to the chilled air and the cold off white and grey-blue stone walls that made up the Antarctica B.P.R.D. base. Back to the badge resting in his suit pocket that said Johnathan T. Myers instead of Thaddeus Tristan Sherman.

"Your shift starts in ten!"

Back to work.

\-----

The Antarctic base was vastly different from the Newark one. For one nearly everything was white. The outside, the walls, the floors, and most of the time even the windows were white. There were bits of grey here and there on the walls where the stone was slightly different in color from the rest of the mason-work. It was also about five times the size of the Newark base. Though you wouldn't be able to tell until you got in passed the front doors and entered the main elevator to see the large panel filled with floor and sector numbers. Everything was below the ice. The entire base was spread out in twelve passages that ran a mile each out from the central area where the elevator shaft was located. There were emergency shuttles to the surface at the far ends of each hallway, but they were barred from usage outside of complete shut down and expulsion of the wing. The top portion of the base held an office area, a medical center, the cafeteria, and the living quarters for the entire staff that was employed on the base. 

What stood out as the most different to John was the fact that the Newark base centered on research and protection. The Antarctica base was a prison and that was all. It held the most dangerous of people, beings, and creatures that had ever dared to threaten the world or humanity. 

John was currently doing his rounds in his assigned sector for the night: 8. It was the one sector that most agents dreaded. The prisoners kept here were the odd ones. The ones that liked to tell riddles, mess with people's heads, and generally cause just a little bit of chaos for one person just to see how far it truly went before their mischief was stopped. John wasn't actually bothered by this sector like the other agents were. That didn't mean he particularly cared for it either though, especially since a few of the prisoners really liked trying to tell him his future whenever he checked their cells.

He had just checked the cell of an old satyr named Rigord, ignoring the near constant flirting and pick up lines that the other male dropped as he marked off that the prisoner was indeed _there_. Rigord had nearly caused the fall of the entire country of Spain about three hundred years before when he charmed his way into the heart of the ruler at the time and nearly had the entire Monarchy transferred over to a rabbit. The male could magically charm his way into and out of just about any situation; which was why the bars of his cell were charged with a powerful anti-charm spell that kept the magic of his voice from effecting the agents on the base. 

In a couple steps John was in front of another cell. The inside was nearly black, like a shadow had taken up permanent residence behind the bars, but John knew that it was only an illusion. It was a trick to block out the light that came from the luminescent stone making up the hallway. As he eyed the cell a low, soft hum flowed like a lilting lullaby from the hidden occupant inside. He caught sight of glimmering plum colored eyes first, eyes that he knew would be a vibrant violet if not for the shadow inside the cell. Then a midnight blue colored face broke through the darkness, lit up by a mischievous twinkle in the prisoner's eyes and a quirk to the corner of their lips.

John let out a small sigh, trying to repress the smile that was threatening to form on his lips, "Aoibheann," John said with a light warning in his tone.

The prisoner stepped forward until she was mere inches away from the bars, a coy pout formed onto her lips as the woman looked him over, "Come now, Agent Myers," Aoibheann purred, "Just one glimpse into your future? You know I can't lie."

She wasn't wrong about that. The Svartálfar were known for their inability to lie, though manipulating the truth wasn't out of their reach in the slightest. In fact, most thrived on giving someone just enough of the truth that they ended up hanging themselves on it when they inevitably discovered that knowing only 10% of what was actually going on often got people hurt, or worse. 

Aoibheann had always seemed to be interested in John, offering him her power of foresight when she ignored the other agents that were sent to guard her sector. It should have unnerved him, but John had - in what he liked to think of as his previous life - grown up around people like Aoibheann and had become fairly disillusioned to their feats of magic and wonder. And their flowery words that tried to draw him in.

"No thanks, ma'am," He said, knowing the title would gain him further amusement from the woman, "I already have a good idea where my future is going. I'd rather not jinx it."

Checking off her cell as stable and occupied John turned and headed towards the next cell on his list, located across the hall and a few feet down. 

"As you say, Child of Fire."

That caught his attention and John paused, his foot part way off of the ground. For a single second his mind spun, trying to figure out _how she could have known_ before he realized his error. His closed his eyes in resignation and a little bit of shame as having fallen for such a trick. Then he turned back towards Aoibheann and caught sight of the wide cheshire grin on her lips, revealing bright and glimmering white teeth that had been sharpened into two rows of fangs at some point in her past. What was the most disturbing part of her calling his bluff wasn't actually her words; it was that _she had said them before._ He would have to have the enchantments on her cell checked. If she was able to influence his memory for even a few seconds to make him forget their past conversations then the enchantments were obviously beginning to fail. Not for the first time John both regretted ever speaking to her and wanted to know more about her and why she was in a place like this. Or perhaps he didn't. Prisoners didn't just get sent here on a whim or because someone wanted them out of the way. All of them were dangerous. All of them were deadly. And most of them liked it that way.

"Or perhaps I should call you Son of the Harbinger," Her voice taunted him through the bars of her cell.

John slowly let out a deep breath to calm himself, feeling the cross that be kept around his neck grow warm as it's magic set about to restrain his. It hadn't happened in nearly a year. He had much better control over his temper then that. He had to, otherwise he'd be just like his mother and burning down buildings with his own nightmares. 

"Fine," John said, stepping and turning back towards Aoibheann's cell, "You get one, and it stays between you and me."

The female studied his face for a moment before her own broke out in a delighted smile, far more pleasant then the shark like grin she had been sporting before, but no less disconcerting. She raised her arm and placed her closed fist over her heart, giving him a nod as the only indication that she was making the requested oath of privacy. Then, without further ado, her eyes clouded over and her arm dropped back to her side. The sector grew eerily silent. Even the snarls from the far end where the more feral of the prisoners were kept quieted to a snort of discomfort or frustration before falling completely quiet. 

"You're running out of time. The East Side Rail-yards. The troll market. You are needed there before the beginning of the end," Her voice seemed to echo, bouncing off of the walls of the corridor and reverberating until it seemed like she was speaking from every direction. John gritted his teeth as pressure built in his ears like sharp needles. In the distance he could hear a whimper from one of the more bestial prisoners. With a jerk of her head Aoibheann went from looking at the ceiling of her cell to staring John in the eyes, her own eyes clearing of their white sheen as the vision left her. "The reign of Bethmora must not end," She stated finally though there was a sneer to her voice, a hiss, like the very words she was speaking disgusted her and had to be forced past her lips. John couldn't help but wonder if she hated this 'Bethmora' personally, or if it was a territorial thing - like most rivalries seemed to be anymore. Still, her eyes studied him intently and with a new found curiosity that had John wondering what exactly her vision had shown her. When she spoke next her voice was coy and teasing once more, "Keep a mindful eye on your dreams, Pure Heart. They tell of a past that you have forgotten, and you haven't been listening."

Before he could even think of a response to her words Aoibheann was sliding back into the shadows, the darkness wrapping around her like a cloak until she completely disappeared within. For a moment all John could do was blink, staring at the spot where she had stood only moments before. Then he forced himself to move, his body running on auto pilot as he checked the rest of the cells and marked them off on his clipboard. Most of what the dark elf had said was a mystery. He had heard of Bethmora only once before, when his Uncle Abe had spoken of an event that had happened shortly before Thad and Trevor had been born. John knew that that event was probably going to happen soon, but he had no clue how it could have any significance in what had happened (was going to happen?) a decade later.

John spent the rest of his shift thinking, trying to remember any information that he could on Bethmora or the troll market, but coming up fairly empty. Most of what he knew about the troll market came from his experiences there _after_ the world had gone straight to hell. Pre-apocalypse troll market history was a bit out of his knowledge range. His mind was also still whirling a bit at the revelation that _the end_ had actually begun before he had even been born, rather then the few months that he and his brother had thought it had been. Once he thought about it however, it made sense. Without the pillars of the supernatural world fully intact; which he remembered Unc- _Abe_ saying that Bethmora had once been one of, it had probably been all _too_ easy for what had happened to his father - to Hellboy - to occur. 

The moment Agent Daton walked into the corridor and waved at John, signalling his shift was over, John set off on a mission. He had research to do... and possibly a resignation to file.

**Author's Note:**

> We've got a few themes going on here. Let's see who can catch them all!  
> I plan on doing a full prequel, and then super-prequel. The prequel will take place during the _Hellboy_ movie and go through John's experience during that. However, this story is going to be set during _Hellboy II_ and probably after. The super-prequel... well that's to be revealed. :D


End file.
